


i wouldn't fall for someone i thought couldn't misbehave

by charliesarrows



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: (daddy kink if you really squint), Angst, Bottom Jason Todd, Dom/sub Undertones, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Has Issues, M/M, Top Roy Harper, and also extracts violent revenge on his abuser!!, jason was a child prostitute, tw: mentions of child rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliesarrows/pseuds/charliesarrows
Summary: There's a lot about Jason that Roy doesn't know. Maybe it's better that way.
Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Comments: 3
Kudos: 197





	i wouldn't fall for someone i thought couldn't misbehave

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to kiseia for beta reading!
> 
> tw (if you missed it): violence, mentions of child rape/prostitution

Jason recognizes him almost immediately, even in the grainy photograph. It’s all in the cold, sadistic smile, the one that’s starred in his nightmares since he was only nine. Too young, by far, to know that sort of pain.

Stefano Falcone. According to Roy, he’s been selling laced ecstasy in his club. It killed some girl, only a year younger than Jason, but Falcone didn’t go down. Roy swears the tip is legit. Jason wouldn’t care either way. Not this time.

Roy’s been taking it easy lately. Suiting up less and less. Lian’s growing up, he says. He doesn’t want to be the guy who’s so caught up in his bullshit that he can’t be there for his kid. Doesn’t want to be Ollie. Or Bruce. Jason admires that; he knows Roy’s done more than enough good. Still, it could never be him. He’s got too much to make up for.

Falcone’s got one of those fancy locks on his penthouse apartment; the digital kind, that opens with a passcode instead of a key. Stupid motherfucker. Roy pegs it with an arrow, says it’s full of acid or some shit, and the LED on the lock blinks, then fizzles out. The lock clicks.

Jason can feel it in his bones.

The apartment is dim, save for a fluorescent light which shines from behind the bar. Of course this asshole has his own bar. They can smell it, too, the sticky odour of a little too much gin mixed with a little too much sweat. Something more salty that Jason doesn’t want to place.

Roy goes straight for the sofa, resting his booted, muddy feet on the leather. Animal. “We oughta get a place like this, huh, Jaybird?” He says. “What do you think the property taxes on this side of town are like?”

Jason ignores him, not bothering to remind him that Falcone probably isn’t paying taxes anyway. He heads straight for the bedroom. He knows where to go.

He’s been here before.

The moonlight peaks in through his picture window, casting just enough of a glow to make out Falcone’s large form in bed. He’s lying in a pile of silk sheets, snoring like a bear. Even asleep, he looks smug. He has every reason to be, Jason figures, with all the shit he’s gotten away with.

Roy trails in behind him.

“So, what, do we wake him up?” He asks, voice barely a whisper. “Should I just go tap his shoulder or something?”

Jason fires a bullet into the headboard. It lodges an inch or so above Falcone’s head, who wakes with a start.

“Or we just do that.”

Falcone blubbers incoherently, panicking as he reaches for his nightstand. Is he going for a lamp or a gun? Jason aims for the lamp and shoots once, just to scare him off from doing anything stupid. The lamp shatters. Even Roy startles at the sound.

Roy reaches for his quiver, but he’s hardly gotten the chance when Jason springs back into action. He tears away the sheets and grabs Falcone by his pudgy ankle, dragging him to the end of the bed. Falcone cowers, obviously, when Jason presses the barrel of his pistol right up to his forehead.

Falcone tries to speak, but Jason only presses harder, forcing his head backward. When he finally stills, Jason pulls the gun away, returning it to its holster. In a swift motion, he reaches up, pulling off his helmet and discarding it on the floor.

“Remember me?”

Falcone, unsurprisingly, has no clue who Jason is, much less what specific grievance has led them to this interaction, where Jason is grabbing him by his double chin and prying his lips apart, just enough that he can slip the barrel of his gun into the fat man’s mouth.

“No?” Jason asks. “Well, you and I are old buddies. It’s been, what, almost fifteen years? And I gotta say, Stef, you look like shit!” Jason slides his gun further into Falcone’s mouth and doesn’t stop pushing until he can hear the thick, wet sounds of him gagging.

“Hey, relax,” Roy warns, but he figures he shouldn’t be surprised when Jason ignores him.

“Yeah, you like that, Stef?” Jason hisses over the garbled sounds of Falcone’s choking. He starts to pull the gun out only to force it back in, earning a disgusting sound from Falcone. “Or, should I call you Sir?”

This earns a quirked brow from Roy. How exactly do these two know each other?

“That’s what you liked, right?” Jason keeps pumping the gun in and out of Falcone's throat. His face has nearly gone purple, and drool is pouring down his chin. “You liked when I called you Sir.”

“Jason, hey,” Roy says. He puts a hand on Jason’s shoulder, but he quickly knocks it away.

Jason pulls the gun from Falcone’s throat and strikes him across the cheek with it. There’s a horrible, slick slapping noise. Falcone pleads between coughs and wheezes, but his cries are only met with another harsh slap.

“You’re gonna beg?” Jason asks, throwing the gun aside and replacing it with his fist, now drawing blood from Falcone’s nose and mouth. “You’re gonna beg just like I did?” His voice is shaking, and Roy picks it up but still can’t bring himself to move.

“I told you,” He cries, his punches becoming faster and less controlled, “I told you to keep your sick fucking hands off of me!” Falcone’s head sags. He’s out cold, but Jason doesn’t stop. “But you  _ knew _ I wasn’t strong enough to stop you! Strong enough to keep you from getting your money’s worth! But I’m stronger now, you motherfucker! I’m stronger than you ever were!”

Falcone’s sheets and pajamas are all soaked with blood now. Jason pulls back for another punch but Roy grabs his wrist, this time unyielding when Jason tries to shake him away.

“Jaybird,” he says, as calmly as he can manage. Jason shoves at his chest, but Roy reaches around and grabs his other arm, pinning him in place. “Jaybird,  _ that’s enough! _ ”

Jason stills. His eyes are bloodshot and leaking with tears, soaking the rest of his face. There’s a little bit of snot dripping from his nose. Under different circumstances, Roy might find it cute.

Not tonight, though.

Roy doesn’t ask him. He doesn’t need to hear out loud the conclusion he’s already drawn in his head. He moves his hands up Jason’s toned arms, cupping his cheeks. Jason sinks into the touch completely, choking on another sob.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he pants. Is he crying too? He doesn’t want to cry. He wants to be strong for Jason. He can’t help it, though. “I’m gonna go back home.” Jason grabs his wrists when he hears this, silently pleading not to be left alone. Roy shakes his head.

“I’m gonna go home,” he repeats over Jason’s sobs, which have grown heavier. “And you’re gonna come meet me. And, when you get home, you’re not gonna tell me what happened to Falcone, alright?” His voice wavers. “A-and- and I’m not gonna ask you. Okay, baby? It’s gonna be okay.”

He drags Jason forward and places a firm, long kiss on his forehead, their tears mingling when they drip from Roy’s face onto Jason’s. He pulls away, prying Jason’s fingers from his arms. Jason keeps sobbing.

Roy leaves the apartment.

____________________

  
  


Roy pays the babysitter. 

He peers into Lian’s bedroom. She’s sleeping soundly, surrounded by fluffy blankets and stuffed penguins. She looks so innocent. This is why he’s quitting, he reminds himself. So his kid won’t get as fucked up as the rest of them.

He runs the shower cold to numb the pounding in his skull. He knows he signed a death warrant tonight. He also knows that Stefano Falcone was a monster. If he’d done to Lian what he did to Jason, Roy might not have hesitated to kill the man himself.

Jason climbs in through their bedroom window two hours later and makes a beeline for the ensuite bathroom. He’s in there with the faucet running for five, ten, fifteen minutes. Roy can hear the sound of a scrub-brush against skin.

Jason’s not wearing anything when he comes out. He crawls into bed and slides right up to Roy, throwing an arm and leg over his body, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

It’s silent for a long time.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Roy finally asks. His voice is barely a whisper, like he’s afraid of being heard. Afraid of hearing the answer.

“I just didn’t wanna talk about it,” Jason mumbles. The shame is heavy in his words. “I knew you’d treat me differently. Like I was delicate.” He sighs deeply, then adds, “I don’t want to feel delicate.”

“You’re not, baby,” Roy says. He gives Jason’s shoulders a squeeze.

“Still,” he says, “I just wanted things to be normal. I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t want to sleep with me. Or, worse, you’d try and give me a mug of cocoa afterwards, tell me what a good job I did, how tough I am. That’s the shit  _ they _ did.” There’s venom behind the word  _ they _ . “I just want it to be normal.”

“Okay,” Roy says. He takes Jason by the chin, tilting his head up just enough to place a tender kiss on his mouth. “It’ll be just like normal.”

Roy kisses him again, and Jason is quick to turn the gentle embrace into something more intense. He shifts his weight onto Roy, straddling his hips, pulling Roy’s hands to rest on his waist. Roy nips at his bottom lip, just how he likes it, and Jason makes a soft whine.

“Why do you like that?” Roy murmurs. “When I’m rough with you.”

Jason sneers. “Freaks like that are all the same,” he says weakly. “They’re not  _ hurting _ kids, they’re  _ loving _ them… So I don’t want to be loved.”

He moves to Roy’s jaw, kissing along his sharp stubble and further down his neck until he reaches his pulse, the place that makes Roy moan.

“You don’t have to prove anything, Jaybird,” Roy breaths. Jason shakes his head.

“I want this.”

Roy feels his boxers tighten as Jason moves his hands along his torso, the pads of his fingers just grazing his skin. He traces Roy’s abdominal muscles. They’ll start to fade once he stops going out for good. Jason’s going to miss them.

His fingers travel further still, teasing the waistband of his boxers, and it’s enough for Roy to give in to temptation. He rolls them over, pinning Jason to the mattress. Jason’s panting heavily, his cock almost fully hard already, and growing harder still at the feeling of Roy rubbing against him, reaching into Jason’s drawer for a half-empty bottle of lube.

Jason parts his legs eagerly while Roy slicks up his fingers, whining for him to hurry up. Roy finally leans back over him, sucking a hickey into his neck as he presses two fingers into his tight hole.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Jason sighs, clinging desperately to Roy, whose fingers massage his sensitive hole, finding his prostate almost immediately, just out of sheer muscle memory.

“That’s good, huh?” Roy croons. He slips in a third finger, earning a string of moaned expletives from Jason. He moves his free hand to rest around Jason’s exposed throat, squeezing only slightly. “God, you’re such a little slut. You’re just dying for my cock, aren’t you?”

Jason manages a nod.  _ “Fuck me,” _ he rasps.

Roy pulls his fingers out of Jason and spanks him on the back of the thigh, hard enough to leave a bright red mark behind. Jason loves those marks. He groans, but it comes out shrill and desperate. Perfect.

“You like that, don’t you?” Roy asks, although he knows the answer. He grabs Jason’s cock, pumping only a few times, his fingers sliding over the precum-glazed head, just to watch Jason moan and squirm with pleasure.

“God,  _ Fuck- _ I said fuck me you idiot.”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Roy warns sharply. He grabs Jason’s jaw and spits into his open mouth, punishment for mouthing off. Jason spits right back at him. This is their game.

Their normal.

“God, you’re such a brat,” Roy mutters. He wipes the spit from his cheek and rubs it in Jason’s face, then spanks him one more time for good measure. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

He’s back around Jason’s throat in half a second. “ _ Yes… _ ?”

_ “Fuck off. _ ”

“I don’t have to fuck you if you don’t want to cooperate,” Roy says. He grinds against Jason, whose hole is clenching repeatedly with need. Jason moans.

“Fuck,  _ please-- _ please fuck me,  _ God _ ,” Jason cries out, nails sinking into Roy’s shoulderblades.

Roy laughs and pulls back, kicks off his boxers. He reaches for the lube again, making a big show of slicking up his cock while Jason watches hungrily from between his legs, licking his lips.

He flips Jason onto his stomach and spreads his ass cheeks, lining himself up with Jason’s entrance.

“Okay?”

Jason takes a breath. 

“Okay.”

Roy pushes in slowly and Jason produces a rough, drawn out moan, which is muffled by the pillow in which his face is buried. His hole is impossibly tight and Roy can’t help but groan as he begins to move. Each thrust grinds Jason against the mattress, providing his dripping cock with some much-needed friction.

Jason clings to the sheets, punctuating each of Roy’s thrust with an ah, or a fuck. He’s getting close. He can’t help it much with Roy’s thick cock stretching him out perfectly, pounding directly into his prostate over and over again.

_ “F-fuck…” _ He tries, his knuckles going white with tension. Roy catches on to his predicament, reaching forward to grab Jason by the hair without slowing his thrusts.

“Hey,” he rasps, his breathing heavy, “what’s my name?”

Jason’s head tilts back as he struggles around the word. “D… Da- Ah, fuck!” Jason forces his head back into the pillow to muffle his cries as he comes, a wet spot forming on the sheets beneath him as he grinds down into them.

Roy hammers into Jason, his spent hole clenching erratically around his cock. “God, you’re so hot,” he sighs. “Come’ere.”

He pulls out, flipping Jason back onto his back and clambering up his body. This is his favorite part. Jason’s lips are parted expectantly, eyes closed in a daze as Roy furiously jerks off. He finally comes with a roar, spilling out onto Jason’s lips and cheeks.

Roy rolls onto his back, panting, watching Jason lick the cum from his lips out of the corner of his eye. He’s certainly a sight for sore eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers, rolling toward Jason. Jason doesn’t protest, let’s Roy cling to him like a backpack, fingers and toes gently tickling his sensitive skin. “You know I love you.”

It’s not a question. Because Jason does know.

“Yeah,” Jason says, reaching for the blankets that spilled onto the floor. He pulls them up around their shoulders. “Me too.”

____________________

  
  


Tomorrow the news will break that Stefano Falcone was found murdered in his home, mutilated with a kitchen knife, with three bullet wounds in his chest. 

And Roy will make good on his word. He won’t ask.

He doesn’t need to know.

____________________


End file.
